


Two hands are better than one

by RembrandtsWife



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fingerfucking, Handcuffs, I have no idea how to tag f/f fic, Season/Series 04, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-20
Updated: 2016-09-20
Packaged: 2018-08-16 08:49:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8095738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RembrandtsWife/pseuds/RembrandtsWife
Summary: The handcuffs are strictly consensual.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I've been watching POI... I love everyone... Root said, "Two hands are better than one" to a handcuffed Sameen, and this happened. *digs toe into the carpet* This is for Psychrophile, who seems not to have an AO3 account.

“Hold still,” Root said.

“Like I have a choice?” Shaw rattled the cuffs that held her wrists over her head, close to the headboard.

Root blinked and smiled. “Like we don’t both know you could get out of those if you wanted to. And I only used the heavy-gauge model to slow you down. Now, *hold still*.”

Shaw obeyed, but only because Root had begun cutting at her pants with a small knife. No use in asking why Root couldn’t just unzip her pants and pull them off like a normal person would. Root wasn’t a normal person.

Luckily, neither was Shaw.

Root hummed cheerfully but tunelessly as she worked the knife along Shaw’s inseam. It bothered Shaw less than it should have; she was pretty much tone-deaf herself, and she liked the sound of Root’s voice anyway. She let her thoughts drift until Root touched her upper thigh near a not-old-enough scar and quivered just as the knife cut through her panties.

“Whoops,” Root said, and held up a small tuft of curly black hair. “Sorry about that.”

A small voice in Shaw’s head told her, You are in the hands of a lunatic who just cut off your pants and your underwear with a knife, and apologized for cutting a little of your pubic hair. Shaw considered that and replied, No big deal.

“I wasn’t expecting this.” Root ran cool fingers through the tangle at Sameen’s crotch. “All this time I’ve been picturing you clean-shaven.” The tip of her tongue peeked out of her mouth as she petted Sam’s fur.

“Let’s just say I don’t have a lot of time for advanced personal grooming.” She had no restraints on her legs; she could just spread them open and raise her hips a little. No. Not yet.

“Oh, I like it.” That was the same weirdly enthusiastic tone of voice Root got over an elegant piece of code, a lot of people to shoot, or some good old-fashioned tuna casserole. Shaw suppressed a shudder. No, no thinking about tuna casserole when the lunatic with the wide beautiful eyes was watching your face and petting your privates. “It suits you. Pity you can’t let the armpits go, too, but too many evening dresses for undercover to do that, am I right?”

Root’s fingertip stopped right where Sameen’s clit was starting to poke out from between her lips. Shaw summoned all of her operative training to keep from squirming against that finger, demanding more of that touch.

“Oh, Sameen.” The gentle, compassionate, pitying tone that made even Finch angry, and made Shaw furious. “There’s no use in hiding how much you want this. Or pretending you don’t know I can make you come with just this one finger?” She held up her hand, one neatly manicured finger with opalescent silver polish on the nail. Shaw swallowed. Root sniffed her fingertip, licked it, and smiled.

“You’re perfectly safe here with me.” A different note came into Root’s voice; she looked down as her damp fingertip traced slow random patterns over Shaw’s belly, too firmly to tickle. “I promise, Sameen, I would never, ever hold it against you, what happens in private. I swear to–to the Machine.”

Her finger sank slowly but inevitably into Shaw’s cunt, into the need and want pooled there, curled forward, and made Shaw come as if her G-spot was the detonator on a fucking bomb.

Shaw might have screamed. She might have screamed Root’s name.

When she could open her eyes again, Root was kissing her way up Shaw’s belly toward her tits and cutting away her shirt as she went. Christ, not that the shirt had cost a lot, but she’d like to have something to wear when–mmph, Root’s mouth tasted of licorice and those pretty pearlescent fingernails were divine on her nipples. Yes please.

“There you go,” Root said after a while, stroking Shaw’s pussy. She was wet and messy now; Root was smearing her juices up and down the cleft, all over her curly bush. Her legs had somehow gotten wrapped around Root’s hips, and it was too late not to push up into Root’s touch, too late not to hope (beg) for more.

“I could make you come again with one finger,” Root mused, eyes fixed on Shaw’s cunt, “but that’s the kind of trick that’s best the first time, no encore. Two fingers–or three–are better than one,” and Shaw sighed happily in agreement as Root filled her up, her wrist coaxing Sam’s hips into position, “but I think, as I’ve observed before, that two hands are better than one.”

Root’s other hand moved in and, with terrifying precision, spread Shaw’s lips so one finger could tap on her clit. Her elbows dug into Shaw’s thighs, and there was nowhere to go, no way to escape how good this felt: Handcuffed, naked, bruises on her tits, friction on her clit and fullness inside her and all she wanted to do was watch the tip of Root’s tongue where it rested against her upper lip, but she couldn’t because her eyes were rolling back in her head with orgasm.

She couldn’t hear anything over the sound of her own panting. But she felt Root unlocking the cuffs, pulling them off her wrists and taking gentle hold of her hands, kissing and licking the marks on her wrists. “There’s my good girl,” Root said, her voice creamy with satisfaction. “Now, feel free to hold my head or pull my hair if you want–”

Root’s tongue touched Shaw’s clit, and Shaw did.


End file.
